New York Times

(início)

Am   C    Em    G
Am                            C                Em
Hetti Blackbird, Hetti Blackbird, Hetti Blackbird,
                       G
that's the Indian's name
                 Am                          C
Out in South Dakota, he stole a gold Range Rover
                    Em                    G
and he drove it all over the empty plains
                Am                      C
While Apache pilots haunt the River Tigress
                    Em                  G
in the laughing silence of the desert night
                     Am                    C
& the price of cocaine on a favourite ball game
             Em                        C
I read it all baby in the New York Times.
A pervert from Jersey with a thirty-thirty,
found them girls rehearsing in a ballet school
And when he bust in point his musket
he turned lilly white muslin into bright red bloom
As I read it here on the coffee street pier
I can't help but hear them buildings fall
And the way they came down, and way they jumped out,
there's no baseball glove in town
That's gonna catch them all.
So every New Year we come to Times Square
and we all howl there when the big ball drops.
Don't trust your junk mail, don't touch the third rail,
and baby don't' you dare hail the King of pop.
Cos the day they found him and brought his body
in the things that Doctor did was enough to strike you blind.